What Are Friends For
by Seshat0120
Summary: Overwork takes it's toll on Sam and Al is there to help pick up the pieces


**What Are Friends For**

_by Seshat0120_

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction._

Sam glanced up quickly from the computer screen he'd been looking at and looked up at the ceiling lights. He'd thought there'd been a flicker of bright light and that one of the bulbs was getting ready to go dead but everything seemed fine. Shrugging he turned back to the computer monitor and continued to input formulas as fast as he could possibly type. He knew he was close to the break-through he needed and if he just stuck with it, it would all come together. That's when it happened again – the bright spot of light. "No," he groaned, realizing what it was this time. "I don't have time for this." Whether he thought he had time or not, fate seemed to have different ideas as the flashes came much faster now.

His footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors, Al strode with a purpose in the direction of Sam's lab deep down in the complex of Project Quantum Leap. Since the completion of the laboratory area, Sam had been spending more time there than he had in his office in the administrative area. Lately he could only be found in his office on the occasions he was doing anything that involved the day to day running of the project. Lately, he'd been leaving that more and more to Al and had been spending all of his working hours in his lab. More to the point, lately Sam had been spending all of his time in his lab – even the hours when he should have been eating and sleeping.

Tonight Al had decided enough was enough. He couldn't remember seeing Sam anywhere but in the lab for the last 4 days and seriously doubted Sam had bothered with such trivialities as eating or sleeping in that time frame. He kept claiming he was close to a "break through". In Al's opinion, what he was getting really close to was a "break down" and unless someone did something to intercept that break down sooner than later, it was going to happen rather spectacularly.

Once he'd reached the door to the lab Al hesitated for only a second preparing himself for the battle he knew was waiting on the other side of the door. He was so intent on the coming argument that he failed to notice that there was no light seeping out of the bottom edge of the door. It wasn't until he'd flung it open and loudly called out Sam's name that he noticed that the room was in darkness, though it was still occupied. In the dim glow of light from the corridor, Al could just barely make out Sam sitting at the desk in the corner of the lab. "What the hell are you doing sitting here in the dark?" he asked reaching out to quickly flip on the light.

As the light flooded the room Al got a better look at Sam. He was sitting hunched over the desk with his right elbow propped up on the desk surface and his head cupped in the palm of his hand. His left arm was curled protectively around his mid-section. As soon as the light had been turned on, he'd moved his right hand down to cover his eyes.

"Turn it off," Sam half begged, half moaned in pain.

"Sam, you ok?" Al asked concerned.

"Please, turn it off," Sam again begged.

Understanding that the sudden flood of light was causing the younger man pain, Al quickly flipped the switch back to the off position and made his way over to Sam – navigating across the room using the dim light coming in from the corridor.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Al asked again.

"Migraine," was the single, one-word answer that Sam seemed capable of forcing out. The one word was enough, though. It had been quite some years since Al had seen Sam suffering with a migraine but that one time wasn't something he was likely to forget.

It had been shortly after Sam had joined the Star Bright project. Then, like now, he'd been pushing himself too hard and Al had cajoled him into a trip to Las Vegas. Sam had gone despite the fact that he repeatedly said that he didn't like Vegas. Al had figured once he got there Sam would lighten up and have a good time. Instead, Sam had decided to stay in their hotel suite as soon as they'd checked in while Al had gone off in search of some diversions. When he'd gone back to the suite quite a few hours later he'd found Sam curled up on the sofa in the living room section of the suite suffering through a migraine. He'd been in so much pain from it and so sick, Al had wanted to take him to the emergency room convinced it was a brain tumor or the like. Somehow Sam had managed to reassure Al that it truly was just a migraine headache and that he just needed some time to get past the worst of it. Al had watched over him like a hawk for a day and half until the worst of it had passed.

Thinking back to that time, Al recalled that it wasn't just bright light that seemed to exacerbate the pain Sam was in but also sounds and smells. It was as if for the period of time that he suffered through the migraine his senses were somehow sharpened. With that in mind, Al made sure to pitch his voice low when he talked in an attempt to try to lessen the pain Sam was experiencing.

He rested his hand on Sam's back and felt the minute shivers running through his frame. Despite the fact that Sam was shivering, the flannel shirt was damp with perspiration. "How long have you had it, Sam?" Al asked him.

"Just started," Sam replied before burying his face in both hands. "Hurts so bad I can't think," he added.

"C'mon," Al said while gently trying to get Sam to stand. "Let's get you back to your quarters so you can lie down. It's not going to get any better with you just sitting here."

Sam resisted Al's gentle urging to stand. "It's too bright out there" he protested with a gesture toward the light from the corridor.

"Just keep your eyes closed, then," Al told him. "I'll make sure you get there in one piece."

"Too many people, they'll ask questions," Sam told him still resisting the urging to stand.

Al let out an exasperated sigh. "You have no idea what time it is, do you?" Before Sam could have a chance to even consider answering the question Al continued, "Sam, it's after 2 in the morning. There's no one out there to ask any questions. Now come on, I'll help you to your quarters."

This time Sam finally did give in to Al's urging to stand. Keeping his eyes tightly clamped shut he let Al lead him through the room and out to the corridor. Al paused only long enough to pull the lab door shut behind him and make sure that it had locked before looping Sam's right arm around his neck and wrapping his left arm around Sam's waist to better guide him back to his quarters. For his part, Sam docilely allowed Al to lead him reaching up to cover his tightly closed eyes with his left hand to block any light that might have been seeping in.

They covered the area from Sam's lab to the elevator bank at the end of the corridor in more time than it would have taken if Sam had been able to walk with his eyes open. "Just hang on. We're almost there," Al comforted as he reached to push the button to call the elevator. When the elevator finally arrived it let out a metallic "ding" to announce its arrival which elicited a small groan of pain from Sam.

Al ushered Sam into the elevator and pushed the button that would take them up to the third level. The structure of the project went down ten levels. The lowest level, the 10th, held the accelerator, control, the imaging chamber and various other support areas. The labs were located one level up on the 9th level.

Al was grateful that at this time of night there wouldn't be anyone else roaming about the project so they would be able to make the 6 level elevator ride to the residential area with no interruptions. What he'd forgotten was that the elevator made the same loud "dinging" noise as it passed each floor. Each time Al could feel Sam cringe next to him and let out a very soft moan of pain. He could only imagine what the "dinging" must have sounded like to Sam.

Finally the doors opened on the third level and Al ushered Sam out of the elevator and down the corridor to his quarters.

"You got your keycard?" Al asked Sam.

Sam wordlessly reached into his pants pocket and produced the requested card handing it over to Al, never opening up his eyes. As soon as Al had swiped the card through the reader and pushed the door open, Sam quickly rushed through the opening, navigating the darkened room easily until he reached the bathroom. He didn't bother turning on the light and Al soon heard the sounds of retching coming through the open bathroom door.

Al waited until the sounds from the bathroom died down before venturing in to check on Sam - allowing the younger man some small amount of privacy. He didn't bother turning on the light in the bathroom not wanting to inflict that pain on Sam and instead let the small amount of light from the desk lamp he turned on filter in to the bathroom. The dim light it cast was more than enough for Al to see Sam huddled up on the floor of the bathroom.

He quickly stepped back out of the bathroom and crossed over to the small kitchenette to get a glass of water and brought it back into the bathroom for Sam. He urged Sam to sit up long enough to rinse his mouth out with the water. He resisted the urge to reach over and flush the toilet knowing that if he did it would probably sound like Niagara Falls to Sam.

Leaning down he urged Sam back up to a standing position and walked him to the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. "Why don't you get undressed," he suggested, "and I'll find something for you to take to help with the headache. Sam didn't bother to answer, just started to unbutton the shirt he was wearing. By the time Al got back into the bedroom with a bottle of Tylenol and another glass of water Sam had stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers.

"Here, take these," Al told him handing him two of the Tylenol. Once Sam had swallowed them and the water, he lay down and tugged the blankets over himself. Al reached down to help, making sure the blankets were tucked in securely since Sam was still shivering.

Al had no sooner started to walked out of the bedroom before Sam sat bolt upright in bed and then ran for the bathroom again, pushing Al out of his way on the way by. Once again Al heard the sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. The Tylenol hadn't stayed in Sam long enough to be of any help. Once the sounds had died down he again went into the bathroom and repeated the process of getting Sam to rinse out his mouth before helping back to bed and giving him more Tylenol and water.

This time Sam managed to hold them down for about 10 minutes before his stomach rebelled again and Al once more followed him into the bathroom to repeat the whole thing all over again. This time, though, he couldn't even get Sam to swallow some water, let alone take the Tylenol.

"Come on, Sam, you know you have to keep fluids in you or you're going to dehydrate," Al urged.

"No, I can't keep doing this, Al." Sam levered himself up off the floor and started to walk out of the bathroom. This time he didn't even make it to the door before whirling around and expelling whatever little bit was still in his stomach before sagging back to lean against the wall. "I can't keep doing this. I don't have time for this," he softly said.

Al let out a sigh. Even sick and in pain Sam couldn't let go of the project and was worrying about what he needed to do.

"There's nothing you can do right now, Sam," Al told him while again helping him to his feet. "You keep worrying about what you need to do and you're never going to be able to get rid of this thing."

Al walked Sam back into the bedroom and made sure he got back into bed. "Here," he said moving a wastebasket near the bed. "This way you don't have to keep getting up. I hope you're done with the pukies, though. I don't see how there can be anything left for you to bring up."

He no sooner got the words out of his mouth before Sam leaned over the bed and reached for the wastebasket. The retching didn't last quite as long this time before he finally settled back with a groan of pain.

Al leaned down to grab the wastebasket. "I'll clean this out and then I'm calling Beeks. She can probably give you something for this."

"No, don't call her," Sam asked lifting his head up off the pillow. "I don't need anything. It'll go away. I just need to rest for a while. Just a little rest and it'll be fine." Sam's voice trailed off as he lay back down against the pillow and closed his eyes.

"Who are you trying to convince? You or me?" Al quietly asked. Not expecting an answer – and not getting one – he left the room with the wastebasket. When he came in a little while later to return the now clean wastebasket Sam was laying very still in the bed with his eyes closed. Al highly doubted that he'd fallen asleep but didn't want to take the chance of disturbing him.

Exiting the bedroom he left the door slightly ajar so he'd be able to hear if Sam needed anything. Sam may have claimed that he'd be fine but Al wasn't planning on straying too far until he was sure. He stretched out on the couch to catch whatever sleep he could. After his years spent as a POW in Vietnam, he was a very light sleeper and it wouldn't take much to wake him up.

By Al's best guess it was an about an hour later when he heard Sam once again vomiting and climbed off the couch. He went into the small kitchenette and pulled a bottle of water from inside of the small fridge and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. He opened the bottle of water leaving the cap on the counter and poured it into the cup as he walked back to Sam's bedroom.

Sam was just lying back in the bed as Al walked in. He sat gently on the side of the bed and coaxed Sam into a sitting position. A cursory glance into the wastebasket showed that it was empty which, apparently, must have also been the state of Sam's stomach – though it didn't seem to have any effect on the nausea.

Once Sam had been coaxed into sitting up Al pressed the glass of water into his hand encouraging him to drink it. Again Sam refused but this time Al was ready with an argument. "I swear, Sam, if you don't drink this I'm going to drag you down to the medical bay and have Verbena stick an IV in you. Then you won't have to worry about drinking this. You're a doctor. You should know you need to replace the fluids you've been losing."

Sam quickly gave in to Al's arguments taking the glass from him and sipping at it. Al didn't let him put it down until he'd drunk nearly half.

"Headache any better?" Al asked once he'd taken the glass back from Sam and set it on the nightstand by the bed.

Sam gave an abortive shake of his head before settling for vocally answering Al's question. "No. It feels like it's gotten worse." He carefully laid back down squeezing his eyes tightly shut against the light coming in from the living room.

Al stood up from the bed, smoothing the blanket back over Sam. "Try to get some rest, he advised," before leaving the room.

Once in the living room he walked over the phone and stood over it debating what he should do. On the one hand he knew that a call to Verbena would have her here almost instantaneously with something to help Sam out. On the other hand, he knew Sam would most likely be furious that Al called her after he'd asked him not to. Having his will subjugated by another was not on the top of "Ways to Win Over Sam Beckett".

Making up his mind Al reached for the phone and picked it up. He'd deal with the fallout of Sam being upset with him if it meant his friend got some relief from the unrelenting headache. He quickly punched in the 4 digit extension that would connect him with Verbena's room and waited patiently while the phone rang.

After about 4 rings a sleepy voice finally answered, "Hello?"

"'Bena, it's Al. I need a favor from you."

"Al? Do you know what time it is?" Verbena asked in a still sleepy voice.

"Yeah, I do know what time it is. I wouldn't be calling this late…this early if I didn't have a good reason."

Al's sharp tone brought her more awake. "Is something wrong?"

Al let out a sigh. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Can you meet me at Sam's quarters? He's got a beut of a migraine and I really think he needs something for it. He keeps telling me it'll go away in time – and I'm sure it will. I'm just not sure what kind of shape he'll be in by then."

"How bad is it?" Verbena asked. News that someone in the complex was ill was enough to bring her fully awake.

"Pretty bad. Light and sound are both making it worse and he's not holding anything down." As if on cue Al heard the sound of Sam vomiting up the water he'd drunk.

"Ok, Al. Keep him still and the room dark. I just need to run to the medical bay and grab some meds and I'll be right down there."

"Thanks, 'Bena." Al hung up the phone and headed back into Sam's room. He found Sam with his head hanging over the bed and wasn't sure if he just didn't have the strength to pull himself back up or if he was just staying in the position in case anything else came up.

"Sam?" Al questioned. "Wanna lie back down."

"Wasn't sure if I was done," was Sam's quiet answer.

Al helped to ease him back onto the bed and decided he should 'fess up now before Verbena got there. "I just talked to 'Bena. She's on her way here with something to help you out."

As soon as he heard Verbena's name Sam abruptly pushed himself upright in bed, trying to bite back a groan of pain. "I said not to call her, that I'd be fine."

"Sam, if she can give you something to feel better sooner than later why don't you want it? Are you enjoying being in pain?" Al just couldn't understand why it was Sam was being so stubborn.

"No, I don't enjoy being in pain," Sam snapped. "I just don't need everyone hovering over me and worrying about me. It's just a migraine. I've had them before and I'll probably have them again. It'll go away with time. Why don't you believe me?"

"I do believe you, Sam. I just don't like seeing you in this much pain or this sick to your stomach. Look at it this way," Al tried to reason, "You let 'Bena give you something and you'll get rid of the headache that much faster and you'll be able to get back to work that much faster."

"Fine, Al," Sam sighed laying back down just as a knock sounded at the door. "Doesn't seem I have much of a choice at this point."

"No, I don't suppose you do," Al agreed moving to go into the other room and answer the door. "Sam," Al admonished from the bedroom door, "be nice. It's not 'Bena's fault."

Al pulled open the door to Sam's quarters and allowed Verbena to enter. For having just been woken up in the wee hours of the morning, she looked remarkably refreshed as if she'd got a full night's sleep In her hand she carried a black doctor's bag.

"He's in his bedroom," Al told her leading the way. "He's not too happy I called you either."

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Verbena commented. "That man is too stubborn for his own good."

Any response Al might have made he quickly bit off as they walked into Sam's darkened bedroom.

"'Bena," Sam greeted, "I'm sorry to bother you. I'd have been all right in a little while." He started to push himself up in bed but Verbena put out a hand to hold him in place.

"It's no bother, Sam. That's the whole reason I'm here, remember."

"You're supposed to be here to make sure we're not all going looney out here under the desert," Sam pointed out.

"Well, since you insist on, among other things, being the only medical doctor on staff that means it's my responsibility when you're unable. I'm going to have to turn on the light in here so you might want to close your eyes."

Sam didn't have to be told twice and immediately squeezed his eyes shut. As soon as Verbena saw they were closed, she reached over to turn on the small bedside lamp.

"I'll be out there if you need me," Al informed the two of them before going back to the living room.

Verbena placed the doctor's bag on the nightstand and opened it up and began rummaging inside of it. She pulled out a thermometer, stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. She put the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff on the bed next to Sam and shook down the thermometer. "Put this under you tongue," she told him holding it to his mouth.

"I'm not sick," Sam quickly protested. "It's just a headache."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that this time? Now open your mouth."

Sam sighed but he did open his mouth and allow Verbena to slip the thermometer in. While she waited for his temperature to register, she checked his pulse before wrapping the bp cuff around his upper arm and inflating it. Once she'd finished that she slipped the thermometer from between Sam's lips and he took a chance to squint his eyes open and look at her.

"So?" he asked.

"Well, there's no fever," she said reading the thermometer.

"I told you I wasn't sick," Sam pointed out.

"…although," Verbena continued as if Sam hadn't spoken, "your temperature is slightly elevated as is your bp and your pulse. That's expected with a migraine, though."

She put the thermometer, stethoscope, and bp cuff back into the bag and withdrew a small vial and syringe and proceeded to fill the syringe from the vial. "I'm going to give you something to combat the nausea. Al said you've vomited quite a bit. It should start to work fairly quickly. Finished measuring the medication into the syringe she made sure there were no trapped air bubbles in it by first tapping on the side of the syringe and then depressing the plunger so a small amount of the medication came out. Then she pulled down the blanket from over Sam and pulled down the waistband on one side of his boxers far enough to expose his hip and plunged the syringe into it injecting the medication.

"Let me ask you something, Sam, when's the last time you got a full night's sleep?" Verbena asked as she deposited the used syringe into a plastic bag which then went into the black bag.

Sam shrugged and made an attempt to avoid the question. "I sleep enough."

"That's not what I asked. When's the last time you got a full 8 hours sleep? For that matter when's the last time you ate a decent meal and took off some time for yourself."

Sam sighed at the questions. "I don't have time for all that right now, 'Bena. I need to give the committee some results soon or they're going to pull the plug on the whole project. I'm running out of time. Once everything's in place I'll have time to sleep and eat then."

"You'll be dead then," was her straightforward, matter of fact answer. "You need to give yourself time to recharge, Sam. You're only one man but it seems like you think you're Superman or something. You kill yourself with work and trust me, this project will be closed faster than they can stick you in the ground."

Sam reached up to rub his forehead, grimacing in pain. "'Bena, please, not now, huh?" he asked.

Verbena blew out a breath. "Ok, Sam. You rest now but we're not done with this. Not by a long shot."

Sam half smiled at the perceived threat. "Somehow I didn't think we were," he murmured.

"That shot should make you pretty drowsy. Try and get some sleep and hopefully when you wake up the headache will be gone – or at least greatly reduced."

Sam could feel his eyelids getting heavy and knew 'Bena was right when she said whatever she'd given him would knock him out. Normally he would have asked her what it was but if it was going to give him any respite from the unrelenting pain that was banging at his temples he wasn't about to question what it was.

Verbena rose from the edge of the bed and smoothed the covers over Sam. "Rest easy," she whispered.

Sam's only response was to curl over on his side and mumble something that could have been anything from "thanks" to "leave me alone".

When Verbena re-entered the living room from the bedroom Al jumped off the couch and nearly accosted her. "He ok?" he asked worriedly.

"He'll be fine with a little time. It's just a migraine. It's pretty painful and debilitating right now but if he gives himself a chance to rest and get over it he'll be just fine. I've given him something for the nausea and it was making him pretty drowsy already. He should sleep for a while. Hopefully that's all he'll need to get rid of the headache. If it's still bad when he wakes up have him take this." She handed Al a glassine envelope with a capsule in it. "That's pretty powerful so he should only take it if the headache's at the same strength, otherwise Tylenol should work."

Al took the proffered envelope from Verbena. "Thanks 'Bena," he said escorting her to the door. "Sorry to have gotten you up so early but he was really starting to worry me."

"Don't worry about it, Al, that's what I'm here for." She stopped in the doorway and turned back to look at him seriously. "He needs to start making some changes, though. Take a vacation or something. He's pushing himself too hard and if he keeps it up this is just going to be the start. See if you can get him to take it a bit easier, maybe take some time off."

Al laughed at her humorlessly. "What makes you think I can get him to slow down? Maybe you should make it Doctor's orders or something and threaten to lock him out of his office and lab. That might get his attention."

"Don't think I won't, Al. He should sleep for a while and I'll drop back by later this afternoon and see how he's doing. I'd like for him to at least take today off and give his body some time to rest."

Al looked back at the closed bedroom door. "I'll sit on him if I have to."

"You just might," Verbena chuckled before walking out the door.

Al gently closed the door behind her and went into the bedroom to check on Sam. Even though he'd drifted off to sleep lines of pain still creased his forehead as the migraine followed him in sleep. Al shook his head and blew out a sigh before stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door leaving it ajar. There was no question that once Sam woke up, headache or not, he'd be raring to get back to work and Al knew that he might just have to literally sit on Sam to keep him still for the day.

A quick look at the clock on the microwave in the kitchen showed that it was still plenty early – too early to be getting any work done especially after a near sleepless night so Al again stretched out on the couch to see what sleep he could rescue from the night.

It was sometime later when Al was pulled from a light sleep by a stirring in the bedroom. He quickly got up and headed in there to see if Sam needed anything. Sam was just sitting up in the bed and swinging his legs over the side when Al walked in.

"How's it going, Sam?" Al asked quietly.

Sam looked up not at all surprised to see Al was still in his quarters and rubbed at his temples. "Not as bad as it was and I don't feel like I'm going to throw up but it still feels like there's a marching band in my head."

"'Bena left something for you to take if you were still in a lot of pain when you woke up. It's in the other room. I can go get it." Al started to turn to walk back out to the living room but Sam stopped him.

"No, that's fine, Al. It's really not as bad as it was. I'll just take some Tylenol and it should be fine soon. Besides, if I take whatever 'Bena left, it's probably going to put me right back to sleep. I need to get back down to the lab, pick up where I was last night."

"That's the last thing you need to do or that you're gonna do. 'Bena said she wants you here, resting today and I intend to see that's exactly what you do."

Sam first looked up at Al incredulous before he started to laugh. "Good joke, Al. C'mon now, I've got work to do."

Sam got up and started to walk around Al to leave the room. Al put out a hand and grabbed Sam by the shoulder stopping him.

"I'm not joking, Sam. You're butt's not going out that door and if you try me I'm going to tie you to that bed. You've been going non-stop. You need a break…your body needs a break so just let it go."

Sam brushed Al's hand off of his shoulder. "It's not gonna work Al. I'm not some sailor that you can order around and intimidate." He started to walk around Al again but only got as far as the bedroom door. As soon as he was faced with the brightly lit living room the pain from the migraine seemed to multiply by a hundred and he had to catch himself on the doorframe or he would have fallen over.

"Sam?" Al called out worried, his hold now supportive instead of restraining.

"Damn." Sam whispered raising a hand up to cover his eyes.

Al supported him back over to the bed and forced him to sit down on the edge of it.

"Still think you're up to going back to work?" he asked needlessly.

Sam let out a sigh. "Fine, looks like I don't have much choice." He looked up at Al almost pleading, "I really can't afford this, you know. The Project…"

"The Project can wait," Al said cutting him off. "It's not going to go anywhere if you take a day off." He wasn't going to even broach the fact that what Verbena really wanted was for Sam to take more than a day off. That could be her fight when she got here. "You want me to get the stuff 'Bena left now?"

Sam glanced up from where he'd buried his face in his hands. "No. I really don't want to take anything that strong – at least right now. I promise if it gets worse I'll take it. Right now I think some Tylenol really will do the trick."

Sam started to get up from the bed again but Al pushed him back down. "You stay put, I'll get them."

Again Sam pushed Al's restraining hands away and started to rise. "If you don't mind I need to use the bathroom and that's not going to wait until you give me permission."

Al wordlessly let Sam up and pass him on his way to the bathroom. When Sam was done in the bathroom and the door opened Al greeted him there with two Tylenol in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He handed first the Tylenol and then the water to Sam and watched him swallow the two tablets before walking him back to the bedroom. He'd toyed with the idea of dropping the capsule Verbena had left in Sam's water but knew he'd probably never be forgiven for that.

When they got to the bedroom door, Sam looked at Al and appeared on the verge of arguing again. One look at the Al's determined eyes sapped the fight out of him. "Fine," he sighed. "Have it your way."

Al stood in the bedroom doorway and watched as Sam got back into bed and pulled the covers over himself and rolled over to face away from the door. Sure that Sam was staying put, at least for the moment, he pulled the door shut and went into the kitchen area to make a pot of coffee. By the time the coffee was done brewing and he'd drunk a cup he peeked into the bedroom to check on Sam again. He'd rolled over so that he was now facing the door and had fallen back into a deep sleep. Confident that Sam was down for the count for a while Al let himself out of Sam's quarters and headed for his own for a shower and a change of clothes before heading to his office to pick up some work for the day.

He made sure to grab Sam's keycard from the desk on his way out since he was planning on coming back and working from Sam's quarters for the day. Sam may have been sleeping now but Al didn't trust him to stay put once he woke up and planned on making sure he did just that.

It was early afternoon when Sam again woke up and made his way out to the living room. Although his appearance was still haggard to Al's eyes the lines of pain had diminished quite a bit.

"How's the head?" Al asked quietly. He was seated at Sam's desk going over some budgetary reports. Sometimes it seemed that was all he did. He'd gotten expert at stealing from Peter to give to Paul.

"Not too bad. It only really hurts if I bend over," Sam replied slouching down on the sofa and resting his head on the back.

"Well, there's an easy cure for that," Al responded

"Don't bend over," the two of them said at once.

"Yeah, I figured that out real quick. What time is it?" Sam asked lifting his head from the back of the couch and looking over to the clock."

Al had just opened his mouth to answer when there was a knock at the door. Sam rose from the couch to answer the door but Al intercepted him.

"Al, I think I can handle answering the door," he complained.

"I don't doubt that, Sam. I just thought you might want to put something else on while I answered it. If you really want to answer it in your boxer shorts, though, be my guest." Al waved Sam over to the door with a smirk.

Sam looked down at himself remembering that he hadn't bothered to grab his bathrobe when he'd gotten out of bed. He uttered a soft, "oh" and changed direction and headed for his bedroom. He came back out tying the belt of his bathrobe as Verbena was laying out what appeared to be take-out boxes on the small table in the kitchenette.

"I figured neither of you have eaten lunch yet so I thought it might be nice if we ate together. I brought us some Chinese, Al."

"Sounds great," Al replied while pulling down dishes from the lone cabinet. "I'm starving."

Verbena looked over to Sam and saw that he'd gotten a slightly sick expression on his face at the mention of food. "Don't worry, Sam, I don't expect you to eat. I got you some egg drop soup. Think you can handle that."

"Yeah, that should be fine." Sam sat down at the table. He was tempted to point out to the two of them that they'd pretty much taken over in his quarters but figured it would be pointless.

"You look like you feel better than you did early this morning." Verbena opened up a container of soup and put it in front of Sam with a spoon.

He'd just opened his mouth to answer when Al beat him to it, cutting him off.

"He says it's only bothering him when bends over."

"So don't bend over," Verbena logically pointed out.

"Ha, ha. I'll have to keep that in mind."

Food boxes opened on the table and plates pulled out of the cabinet, she and Al joined Sam at the table and began tucking into the food.

"Seriously, Sam, how are you doing?"

Sam shrugged and began to play with the soup with his spoon. "Mostly ok. There's just a residual from the headache. The nausea's gone though." He put a spoonful of the soup in his mouth and swallowed as he watched Al pile chow mein on his plate. "Well, mostly gone," he corrected quickly looking down.

For the rest of the meal the three of them made small talk and avoided talking about anything of consequence. Finally Verbena pushed her plate away from her and folded her hands on the table.

"You and I need to have a little talk, Dr. Beckett," she said in a very business-like manner.

Sam also pushed the remainder of his lunch away and sat a little straighter in the chair. "It must be serious if you're getting formal," he said with a nervous laugh.

"Maybe I should clean this up and leave the two of you alone," Al nervously said as he started to rise and reach for the dirty dishes.

"Sit down, Admiral," Verbena said with steel in his voice.

"You're not getting out of this one," Sam added. He suspected what it was Verbena wanted to talk about and had a sneaking suspicion that if Al hadn't put her up to it then he at least knew what it was and condoned it.

He switched his attention back over to Verbena, "Whatever it is you've got to say, Dr. Beeks, just spit it out so we can all get on with what we need to do."

"Fine. When's the last time you had a vacation?"

"What? That's what you want to talk about? When I went on vacation? What are you? My travel agent?" Sam abruptly rose and started to clear the table himself. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had taken a vacation but knew if he admitted that he'd just add more fuel to Verbena's fire.

Verbena reached out a hand to still Sam. "No, I'm your friend and I don't like what I'm seeing."

Sam gently extricated himself from her grip and continued to clear off the table. "I don't know what it is you think you're seeing but whatever it is, you're wrong. I'm fine."

Al silently watched the two from his place at the table. Sam could take the word "stubborn" to new levels but from what he'd seen of Verbena, she could probably match his stubbornness. He figured that things were going to get interesting very quickly.

"You're not fine, Sam," Verbena said also rising. "You work constantly day and night. You don't take any time off for yourself. You hardly ever remember to eat a decent meal. You need to give yourself a chance to rest and recharge and if you don't this migraine is only going to be the start."

"I get plenty of sleep and eat just fine, thank you."

"Two or three hours of sleep a day and eating whenever you happen to remember is not sufficient. You keep going at the rate you're going and you're going to find yourself in a hospital or worse."

"She's right Sam," Al agreed. "You keep up like this and there's not going to be a happy ending."

Sam glared at Al. "Don't you have something you need to do?"

"Hey, you're the one who told me to stay." Al said defensively.

"Yeah, well I thought you'd back me up. I should have known better." He switched his attention back to Verbena. "Look, if the whole point of this 'little talk' is to get me to take a vacation then forget it. It's out of the question. There's no time for that right now."

"You'll make the time," Verbena flatly stated.

Sam leaned back against the sink and looked at her incredulously. "I'll make the time? You're not threatening me, are you, Dr. Beeks?"

"No, I'm not threatening you at all. I'm making you a promise." She pulled herself up to her full height and crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Sam with pure determination. "You either make the time to take a vacation and get away from this project or I promise you I'll contact the committee and tell them that the Project Director has suffered a physical and mental collapse and the project needs to be closed down indefinitely until he recovers. It's your choice."

Sam looked at her for a few moments, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You can't do that," he finally forced out before looking over to Al. "She can't do that."

Al winced at the ultimatum. He honestly hadn't thought Verbena would go through with one. "I'm afraid she can, Sam. As the staff psychiatrist her recommendation carries a lot of weight."

Sam turned back to Verbena shocked. "You wouldn't."

Verbena softened her voice but not her stance. "I don't want to, Sam, but if it's the only way to get you to take some time off and rest I will. I don't want to see you kill yourself."

Sam sank back down into one of the chairs. "You're really serious about this."

Verbena resumed her seat and nodded at Sam.

"This is blackmail, you know," he needlessly pointed out.

Verbena couldn't conceal a small smile. "I know it is. I want you to take two weeks off and get away from here."

"Two weeks?! No way, I can't be gone for two weeks."

Verbena raised an eyebrow at Sam's outburst. "I could make it four."

Sam sank back into the chair defeated. "What am I supposed to do for two weeks?"

Al came to Sam's rescue with a suggestion. "When's the last time you saw your mother and sister? Why don't you go to Hawaii for a visit?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. I bet you could fly out this weekend already."

"No way. I need some time here to make sure everything's in order if I'm going to be away for two weeks and I have a couple of reports due within a week. There's no way I can leave this weekend."

"Fine," Verbena agreed, some of the steel creeping back into her voice. "I'll give you two weeks to make whatever arrangements you need to and then your butt better be on a plane or I'm making my call. Will that be sufficient time?"

Sam threw his hands up in the air. "It's gonna have to be since you're not giving me much choice."

"Oh, you have a choice, Sam. I'm just happy to see you're picking the wise one."

"Great," Sam grumbled. "Are we done with this now? If the two of you don't mind I'd like to take a shower and head down to the lab."

"No," Verbena told him bluntly.

"No?" Sam questioned half rising out the chair. "No what?"

"No, you're not going to the lab, your office, control, or anywhere else today if it means you're going to do work."

"This is ridiculous. I'm fine and now that you've given me a deadline, I've got a lot I need to get done." Sam pushed himself fully up from the chair and headed for the bathroom intent on doing what he thought was best no matter what anyone else might think or say.

"You know, Doctor Beckett, I could make that phone call early."

Sam whirled to face her. "You're just going to keep holding that over my head, aren't you?"

Verbena rose to face Sam. "If it means making sure you're taking care of yourself, yes. Here's how it's going to be until you get on that plane. You're not doing anymore work for the rest of today. From now until you leave for Hawaii you are not going to work more than 10 hours a day. You are going to get a full night's sleep and you are going to be eating three meals a day. It's as simple as that, Sam, and none of this is open for debate."

Sam again threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, whatever. Like I said, I don't have much of a choice." Sam stalked off to the bathroom slamming the door in his wake.

"Well, that went over well," Verbena commented to no on in particular.

Al came over to stand next to her. "You can't keep pushing him and threatening him. You tell him you're going to the committee one too many times and the chances of him taking two hours off let alone two weeks aren't that good."

"I'm just doing it for his own good, Al."

"I know that and you know that and I think deep down Sam knows that. He's agreed to the two weeks. Now it's time to stop pushing him."

Verbena gave Al a long searching look. Of everyone on the project he was the one who knew Sam the longest – and the best. If anyone would know when it was time to push and when it was time to back off it would be Al.

"Fine," she sighed. "At least see if you can get him to rest for the rest of the day."

"I'll do my best," Al answered walking her to the door.

Al was just finishing cleaning off the table when Sam reappeared from the bathroom. He was still dressed in the bathrobe and was rubbing his hair dry with a towel.

"Dragon Lady gone?" he asked.

"That's not fair, Sam," Al chastised. "She's worried about you, just like a lot of us are. She's only looking out for you."

Sam let out a sigh and tossed the damp towel onto the couch. "I know, Al. It just felt like the two of you were ganging up on me today. I know she's right. It's just that there's so much work that still needs to be done."

"And it's all going to be here when you get back, Sam. Besides, haven't you been stuck on part of the program for a while now? Maybe if you get away for a while you'll come back with a fresh perspective."

"Maybe," was Sam's non-committal answer. "I'm gonna go get dressed and since it looks like you're going to play watchdog for the rest of the day I guess I'll call Mom and let her know that it looks like I'm coming."

Sam started to head into his bedroom when Al called him back. "You're not just going to leave that there are you?" he asked pointing to the damp towel.

Sam started to laugh and shake his head as he snatched the towel from sofa. "You know, the only one who's ever gotten on me more about wet towels is my mother."

"I guess that means I'm in good company," Al responded with a smile.

Sam again headed for his bedroom still laughing softly. He stopped in the doorway and turned around to face Al suddenly serious. "Thanks, Al."

"For what?" Al asked sitting at the desk again to make another attempt at tackling the budgetary reports.

"For taking care of me last night and for just being here when I need you. Just, thanks."

Al turned around in the chair to face Sam a soft smile on his face. "It's nothing you wouldn't do for me, Kid. Besides, what are friends for? Now go on and get dressed and give your Mom a call. You'll make her year when she hears she'll be seeing you."

Sam disappeared into the bedroom and Al turned back to the budgetary reports satisfied that Sam had agreed to take some time off and rest. With any luck things would be smooth sailing from here on out.


End file.
